#This was a fun one to write

[narcissosbythepool]

More Rosie AU!

Nikolai meets baby Rosie for the first time, meanwhile Price and Gaz have a mushy post-mission reunion. Companion fic to @imrowanartist's art, which you can find here!

Tags: established pricegaz, fluff, humor

//

“How long, Nik?”

“Sit still, old friend,” Nikolai says with a tight smile, “or I will toss you out of the helicopter. Understood?”

John grumbles something rude under his breath. Lucky for him, the engine’s noise is too loud for Nikolai to hear his words. Ghost’s snarky laughter filters through either way.

They’re almost at Credenhill, so close in fact, that Nik can see the tarmac in the distance, but he’s not going to tell this tidbit of information to John yet.

It’s been a long mission.

Once he begins landing, Nikolai notices something.

“Captain,” he laughs, “you have a guest.”

“Is that so?” John sounds pleased.

“Yes— oh, two guests.”

In the distance, Nikolai can barely make out Gaz and the little bundle in his arms that must be a baby. Nikolai hopes Gaz brought some hearing protectors, and looking again, it does seem like Rosie is sporting familiar yellow earmuffs. 

The second they land, John strips out of his gear, divesting himself of his helmet and the tac vest as fast as possible so that he’s just in his fatigues. He basically rips the door open, ducking to avoid the blades as he exits the vehicle in a rushed jog. Nikolai hears Ghost mutter something he can’t quite care to make out, but it makes Soap laugh.

Nikolai glances at the tarmac just to see that John’s light jog has turned into a run and Gaz bursts into laughter as well – so that’s what gets you running, Nik thinks and chuckles at the sight. Baby Rosanna looks slightly lopsided in Gaz’s arms, perhaps still asleep – an impressive feat considering how loud the tarmac is and how hard Gaz is laughing at her Da. When John finally slows down to a walk so he doesn’t barrel into his partner and child and knock them over, Nikolai stops paying attention. He lets the engine cool down before disengaging the clutch, the rotors slowly winding down before he finally shuts down the engine. He does the last checks, checks the instrument panel, and when everything seems to be in order he joins the rest of the team on the tarmac. Ghost and Soap have already reached John and Gaz, Soap saying hello to Rosie, who’s now blinking herself awake as Gaz transfers her for John to hold. Ghost ruffles Kyle’s hair as he passes, dodging a revenge swat at his hand. 

Soap finally leaves with a comment that Nikolai cannot hear but which makes John roll his eyes, and then he gets the front row seat to the nauseating display of John reuniting with his family. Rosie blinks at her Da and John speaks to her softly, raising her in his arms to press a kiss on her forehead. The baby goes cross-eyed staring at him and Gaz laughs at her confused expression as John swipes his daughter’s nose with the tip of his finger, looking every bit the part of a devoted father. Then he turns his attention to his beau and they stare at each other with matching giddy grins. Gaz’s arm lands on John’s, and then John dips in and they fall into a deep but gentle kiss.

Nikolai shakes his head. John was whiny the entire mission, staring at his phone and sighing like a forlorn maiden, and it was only through the last dredges of goodwill and empathy that Nikolai didn’t just leave him behind. But, he has to admit, it is cute to finally see them like this, as a happy little family – all out in the open this time. John was so miserable, before. Years he pined away without realising, and when he finally did realise his feelings for the Sergeant, he punished himself for it like a repentant monk. Even after they got together, it seemed like John operated under the notion that they were constantly on borrowed time and it could run out at any time.

Nikolai doesn’t blame him. Time does run out sometimes, and they are both familiar with the kind of loss and heartbreak that comes with fate deciding that time is up, going home empty-handed. Nikolai had watched heartbreak and grief etch itself into John’s features, afraid that the stain of betrayal would forever be imprinted on his bruised heart. It was an ugly thing, cultivated through good intentions and the staunch belief that it was somehow deserved, that it was atonement for whatever crime John had committed. But even then, fate was not done with him.

Sometimes, solar material hovering in the sun's atmosphere erupts into space – a whip-like lash of magnetic energy, travelling at frightening speeds in the cold of space. To Earth, it shows up as colourful flashes of aurora borealis. 

Gaz came into their lives like one such cosmic event. 

Nikolai remembers how he used to watch the two, their heads pressed together over plans and shared stories. How the waning light would colour Gaz’ brown skin golden. Nikolai gets it – if he was blessed by the presence of such a sun god in his life, he would certainly fall too. Who could blame anyone for wanting a closer glimpse, even if it burned? And John had looked at Gaz like he was spun from that golden hour. 

It was very embarrassing to watch, at the time.

Not much less embarrassing than it is now.

“Make way,” Nikolai announces himself and the two startle, separating like teenagers caught making out. “The reason your baby exists is here and I demand to see her.”

Gaz chokes on a laugh, wiping his mouth, but he makes way for Nikolai and John turns so that Rosie is better visible for him.

She is a cute one, Nikolai will admit. She’s a couple of months old now, Nikolai can’t really tell the exact age with babies this small, and she’s blinking up at him with her huge, brown eyes. He can see the resemblance to her parents immediately, as if there was ever any doubt, and he takes a moment to be privately satisfied with himself. John may not admit it (and they’ve argued over this), but Nikolai is the reason this little miracle is here. Had he not talked to John, they might still be stupid and miserable about this whole thing. 

“Can I?” he asks, and ignores how his throat feels a little thick. John gives him an amused look but is wise and keeps his damn mouth shut, then hands Rosanna over to Nikolai. He takes her in his arms, supporting her head before John can even say a word, and then a smile breaks on his face, unbridled.

“Hello, Rosichka,” he tells her in Russian. He vaguely notes John glancing at Gaz, who just grins. “You’re lucky you got your looks from Gaz.”

The grin drops a smidge.

“That was my name.”

“It was,” Nikolai refuses to translate. Rosie simply blinks at him. 

Yeah, damn cute. Nikolai can excuse the running.

“Are you going to give her back?” John asks. Rosie slowly stretches her hand out and grabs the edge of Nikolai’s flight suit, squeezing the zipper for dear life.

“No,” Nikolai says. “You can be disgusting with Gaz now, I’ve got her.”

“Disgusting—” John sputters. Gaz laughs again, cupping John’s cheeks and pulling him into another kiss, this time noisy and theatrical. Nikolai manoeuvres past them with Rosie in his arms and walks towards the base where Soap and Ghost disappeared ages ago.

It’s about time he finally gets to know little Rosichka.

END

[strawberriemarswrites]

CHAPTER TWO

Chapter Summary: You go out for drinks with your coworkers, with an ulterior motive to see your neighbor at the same time. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ for the story, SFW chapter) TW: Creepy bar patron, attempted drugging, Barto committing a little violence in your name Ao3 Link: Chapter Two (4,566 words)

Two weeks passed without incident. In fact, your perfume even turned back up. It wasn’t where you normally kept it in the bathroom, but sitting on top of your dresser right in plain sight. Go figure. Bartolomeo hadn’t said anything about any suspicious activity around, either, so maybe you were just being a little extra spacey. After all, you were more accustomed to having a roommate or your parents around to help fill in the gaps, so maybe you just needed to be a bit more mindful while you adjusted to living alone.

(Nevermind that you had looked atop the dresser for that perfume, and it wasn’t there before.)

In that span of two weeks you were able to convince some of your coworkers to try a different bar. More specifically, The Sound Barrier, where Bartolomeo worked. Robin was intrigued by the prospect of somewhere new, and agreed. A fellow archives technician, Nami, also agreed, stating she was eager to con some free drinks out of a different sort of crowd than the usual haunts. You were unsuccessful in convincing Vivi, one of the conservators, but she talked another conservator, Drake, into going. Rebecca, an archives specialist, also declined, apologetic as she already had plans to see her aunt.

Of the usual pay-day drinks crew, three out of five (including yourself) wasn't bad, and the addition of Drake meant there would be an extra bit of robust support, given the unfamiliar territory. Plus, Bartolomeo would be there working, so you'd have more than enough people looking out for you that night.

Still, you couldn’t shake the ominous feeling looming over your head. With both you and Bartolomeo out, that left your apartment unprotected from another break-in, a thought that chilled you down to the bone. You considered asking the neighbors that lived below you if they could keep an eye out, but you weren’t entirely trusting that they wouldn’t already be occupied with their usual bickering. And given you were pretty sure the neighbor below Bartolomeo was a near-sighted old woman, that took her out from the running as well. You could ask the landlord, but he should have already been on the lookout for suspicious activity, so he wasn’t likely to have your best interest at heart, either.

You had to rely on blind luck that your apartment would be safe. 

You shook your head, trying not to dwell on the thought for too long. It was supposed to be a fun night, you couldn’t let some hypothetical creep ruin it. With one more look in the mirror, you headed for the door, scooping up your purse on the way and double-checking for your wallet, phone, and keys. Just as you were triple-checking the door was locked, your phone pinged — Robin was outside with Drake and Nami already in the car. You cast one final look at your door, the ominous chill threatening to creep back up your spine, before you shoved the feeling back down and hustled to the elevator.

Everything would be fine. Damn it all, you had to believe that if you wanted to have any fun tonight.

The car that waited outside wasn’t Robin’s, but instead an unfamiliar silver SUV. The backseat window rolled down to reveal her sitting behind the driver, whose silhouette you eventually recognized to be Drake as you approached. Robin smiled and opened the door for you, ushering you in.

“Told you so,” Nami said from the front seat, grinning at Drake smugly.

“I’ll be damned,” he said as you buckled in. “I thought Nami was messing with me when she said you lived here. Didn’t expect it to be —”

“On the shitty side of town?” you interjected. 

Drake nodded, pulling away from the curb.

“What’s the name of this place again?” Nami asked.

“The Sound Barrier,” you answered, fidgeting in your seat. “Thanks for taking me up on this one, by the way. I thought maybe we should try something new.”

Robin smiled knowingly. “You’re sure it doesn’t have anything to do with this mysterious neighbor of yours?”

“Uh... well,” you hesitated, scratching the back of your neck. “Maybe a little.”

“He better not say anything if he catches me getting free drinks from one of his regulars,” Nami said, pulling up the map on her phone.

“If he doesn’t, I will.” Drake said.

“What are you, a cop?”

You giggled despite yourself, feeling a little more relaxed. You didn’t know Drake particularly well, so it was a relief to know he was on the sterner side. Even with that reassurance, you must have still looked a bit uneasy, given that Robin leaned a bit closer to you and asked, “Everything all right?”

Her observation skills were both appreciated and unnerving at times, with very little getting past her. She seemed content enough to make it known she was aware something was up, but you didn’t want to worry anyone else with the break-ins, especially with the current lull in occurrences. However, you knew Robin would be suspicious all night if you didn’t say something.

You smiled, trying not to let the twist in your stomach show. “I’ll be fine. Just nervous — I’ve never seen Bartolomeo outside of the apartment building.”

She tilted her head. “You think he might be different in public?”

“It’s more... He’s never seen me outside the apartment, either. So it feels like this is a chance to know more about each other in a different way than we could from just the brief meetings.”

She laughed, putting a hand up in front of her mouth, though her smile was still clearly visible behind it. “Like seeing something in its natural habitat.”

You laughed, too, adding, “I guess I’m also hoping that I’ll live up to whatever expectations he might have in his head.”

“I think you will,” she said, dropping her hand to reveal her still smiling. “If it helps ease your nerves any, it’s likely he could be thinking the same thing of you.”

That did reassure you some, the tension in your shoulders dissipating. You nodded, and switched subjects, chatting with Robin and Nami, with the occasional input from Drake. The worries you’d had in your mind drifted far behind you as you finally felt like you’d be able to enjoy the night ahead.

Act like you always do, Bartolomeo told himself over and over again. Just gotta act natural.

“You gonna wipe down the same spot all night?” a voice called to him over the live band and bar chatter. He looked up to see his coworker and best friend, Gambia, leaning against the register and giving him a gap-toothed grin.

Bartolomeo rolled his eyes and pushed off the bar counter, draping the sanitation rag over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t have to if you did your job right.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Gambia said, pushing off from the register. “Definitely doesn’t have anything to do with that girl you keep talkin’ about, right?”

The lights were dim enough in the bar that Bartolomeo didn’t have to worry about his ears turning pink. “It might. Not like it’s any of your business.”

“It is if it’s bothering you. She break your heart or somethin’?”

“No!” he snapped a little too quickly, then reeled it back in. “She’s coming by tonight. I don’t wanna make a bad impression.”

Gambia snorted, “You? Bein’ worried about what someone thinks? Doesn’t sound like the Barto I know.”

Bartolomeo folded his arms and leaned against the back bar, averting his eyes. “Just what this one thinks.” 

“All right, fair enough,” Gambia said and put his hands up defensively. “Just wish you’d said somethin’ sooner — maybe Gramma would’ve let us get out the good stuff.”

Bartolomeo cast a sideways glance to his friend and smirked. “Don’t go tellin’ everyone about it, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, you know me. Don’t let it distract you from doin’ what we’re paid to do.” Gambia nodded toward the door. “Speakin’ of which...”

Bartolomeo turned, feeling his heart skip. There you were, sticking out like a sore thumb in a place like this. You were joined by a dark-haired woman and a redhead, who were both equally gorgeous. Beautiful, even. Any other day he’d gladly let either one step on him. But you were perfect, and the only one he had eyes for. He then noticed that bringing up the rear of your group was a tall man with narrow glasses and a scar on his chin, and Bartolomeo felt something in the back of his mind begin to panic. What the hell was wrong with him? Was it that you hadn’t mentioned one of the drinking friends was a guy? It wasn’t like you couldn’t have guy friends, that’d be ridiculous. You were a grown adult, you could have whatever friends you wanted.

Still, he couldn’t shake the sudden flare up of jealousy that swelled in his chest. He refocused his attention to you. You were conversing with the dark-haired woman, who was slowly surveying the area. Her eyes found Bartolomeo, and an odd, almost shrewd smile graced her features before she leaned a bit closer to you, and immediately you whipped your head toward the bar with a wide grin. You waved as your group ushered you along toward a curved booth, and he waved back, unable to keep from mirroring the grin on your face.

“So that’s him, huh?” Nami said to you as Robin and Drake sat down. “You weren’t kidding when you said he’s kind of scary-looking.”

“I thought he’d be scarier,” Robin giggled. “He looks more like a big cat to me. Or a rooster.”

“More like an Oni,” Drake commented, adjusting his glasses. “Vivi and I finished work with a set of masks a few months ago. He reminds me of one of them.”

You turned pink, fidgeting. “He’s not so bad when you know him.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Nami said with a smirk. “And that judgment will be based on whether or not we get the first round free.”

While your group was settling in and figuring out drink orders, Bartolomeo was resisting the urge to jump over the counter to greet you. Any hope he had of appearing casual amidst his internal struggle was crushed when Gambia nudged him.

“That her?” he asked, as if he couldn’t already tell, a shit-eating grin on his face.

The limited lighting did nothing for the bright red that crept up Bartolomeo’s neck. “The one on the left, yeah.”

“Aw, she’s real cute,” Gambia said and nudged him again. “And you still haven’t asked her out yet?”

Bartolomeo turned even more red. 

The blonde sucked his teeth, “Oooh, better do it quick. She looks the type to get snatched out from under ya.”

That statement made Bartolomeo’s stomach churn. He knew Gambia was just talking shit, but something deep inside him fumed at the thought of you with anyone else. He shook his head, pushing down the dark voice in the back of his mind once more. It’d be fine. Sooner or later, either he’d ask you out or you’d beat him to the punch — just not yet. It didn’t feel right yet.

You rushed over ahead of Nami, weaving between other patrons with laser-like focus as you found your way to an empty barstool and hopped up. As Bartolomeo side-stepped to stand opposite you, you grinned and stuck out your tongue. “Told you I’d get them here.”

He grinned back, making your heart skip a beat. “About friggin’ time. I was wondering when they’d give in.”

“You make it sound like I forced them,” you said, putting a hand over your chest in mock-offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m naturally persuasive.”

His grin turned lopsided. “So you’re telling me you didn’t bat those big pretty eyes and beg them to come?”

Your heart skipped another beat. He thinks my eyes are pretty?

Nami approached then, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she leaned over you with a cheeky grin on her face. “Are you all done catching up? I’m dying for a screwdriver already.”

Bartolomeo’s gaze drifted to the redhead behind you, and you tried not to read too much into it, fully aware that Nami caught the eyes of everyone. Still, you couldn’t stop your chest from tightening. With a sheepish smile, you gestured to her and said, “Nami, Bartolomeo. Do not let her convince you to forget the tab.”

“Oh, you killjoy,” she whined, pouting. “Between you and Drake, how am I supposed to have any fun?”

“I can start you off with that screwdriver,” Bartolomeo said with a smirk, putting both hands on the bar and leaning forward, his arms holding him up like an A-Frame. “Anything else I can get for you pretty ladies?”

Again, your chest tightened. Right, he worked at a bar, it only made sense that he’d probably be turning up the charm as part of his job. His “pretty eyes” comment earlier probably didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things.

Then his gaze met yours, and everything fell away. The dim lighting cast dark shadows over his features that made him look all the more intimidating, his amber eyes practically glowing. Between the broad shoulders, the eyes, and his fangs, for a moment you thought he might lunge forward and bite you, sinking sharp teeth into soft flesh with intent to consume you whole.

And then you thought about how maybe you wouldn't mind that.

It occurred to you that Nami had ordered the other two drinks, and Bartolomeo was waiting on yours. Snapping back into reality, you stuttered, “Whatever hard cider you have on tap.”

He smiled, further evoking the image of a hungry predator, and nodded. “You got it.”

Damn his smile. You probably should not have found that as hot as you did.

As the night progressed, you did your best to balance your attention between your coworkers and Bartolomeo. You felt a touch guilty that the scales weighed so heavily in the latter’s favor, as you really did enjoy chatting away with Robin and Nami as well as learning more about the normally reserved Drake. But you couldn’t help yourself from looking over at the bar to try and catch Bartolomeo’s eye, blushing every time he smiled at you. Eventually, Nami decided it was time to start charming some of the other patrons for free drinks, disappearing into a crowd gathered around the small stage at the back of the establishment.

“You think she’s going for the band?” you asked Robin, catching brief glimpses of red hair weaving and bobbing effortlessly amongst the horde of metal heads and punks.

“That’s likely her end goal,” Robin said, sipping at her Manhattan. “She’s probably scoping them out first.”

“And she does this every night you go out?” Drake asked.

You shook your head. “Not every time. Just when she knows she can get away with it.” Hopefully Bartolomeo doesn’t notice. On reflex, you found yourself once again looking over at the bar, smiling at him. This time he was busy with another customer, but you didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched into a wider smile when his eyes flicked over to yours.

“You can go sit at the bar if you really want to.”

Robin’s voice made you start, and you fidgeted with the napkin under your drink. “But — I’m out with you guys, not him. I don’t want to be rude...”

“You’re not being rude,” she said, nudging you lightly. “You wanted to see him tonight, you can go see him. I’m sure Drake and I can manage.”

Drake nodded. “Just don’t let him give you any trouble. We’re right here if he does.”

Your heart fluttered and you stood up, thanking them both and making your way back to the bar.

Bartolomeo nearly tripped on his way to your seat, shooting a glare at Gambia when he noticed and laughed. If you noticed, too, you didn’t show it, giving him that goddamn gorgeous smile of yours that made his heart race. After ordering another hard cider, he leaned atop the counter, his forearms supporting his weight as he bent at the waist. “So uh, you havin’ fun?”

Smooth. Real smooth.

You nodded as you took a drink, pointing to the band. “Nami’s out there doing her thing. Drake — the guy over there —” you gestured over your shoulder “— he’s never come out with us before. Robin got him talking about reptiles though and they didn’t stop for like twenty minutes.” You propped your chin up in your hands. “So I’m over here to bug you while they talk about fossils. I’m all yours.”

It took a not-inconsiderable amount of effort not to blurt out do you really mean that? However there was no hiding the waver in his voice when he said, “You can come bug me anytime, sweetheart. Dunno that I’ll have anything as interestin’ to talk about, though.”

Shit. Did he just call you “sweetheart” out loud? It just popped out, he couldn’t stop it. But he then saw your cheeks turn a very pretty shade of pink, and he latched onto the nickname, immediately forgetting his panic over using it. He wanted to see that blush more.

You tucked a stray hair behind your ear, switching to resting your cheek in one palm. “Honestly, even if I don’t understand at all what someone’s talking about, just listening to them gush about what they love is fun. Anything can be interesting if it’s talked about with a lot of passion like that.”

Bartolomeo grinned. “So, you’re telling me, if I talked your ear off about baseball, you’d just let me do it? No filter?”

“Pretty much,” you giggled, tracing a finger around the rim of your glass. “I’m surprised baseball’s your topic of choice though. You don’t strike me as the sporty type.” You paused, then giggled again. “Pun not intended.”

“Nah, not particularly. It’s just the first thing that came to mind,” he laughed, standing upright and reaching to his back pocket for his wallet. “I do have this really cool card though that someone left behind one night a few years back. Autographed and everything.” 

He showed you the card, depicting a green-haired batter holding three bats — one in each hand, and one between his teeth. You had to admit, it looked cool as hell. “What if someone comes back looking for it?”

“Screw them, finders keepers. And like I said, it’s been a few years. I doubt they’ll come back for it at this point.”

You stifled a snort and took another drink. “So if not sports, what is something you’re really passionate about?”

As he was about to answer, his attention was drawn to the front door, a pair of customers coming in and taking seats at the opposite end of the bar. “Just a sec, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

He couldn’t resist dropping the nickname again. The flush in your cheeks was worth it.

Drake kept an eye on you from the booth, still chatting with Robin about this and that. Vivi had convinced him to go on this outing in her stead with the premise of giving him an opportunity to know his coworkers better, but he knew part of it was a concern for the venue. He’d been to plenty of bars in his life, including a fair share of metal and punk ones, and they’d all been about the same as far as rowdiness. Though, in his experience, the grittier places tended to have the better behaved clientele oddly enough, so while he felt Vivi’s concern was a bit misplaced, he didn’t want to offend her, knowing she cared a lot about the safety of her friends.

Admittedly, he’d been a little shocked to find that this neighbor of yours that Nami and Robin had been gossiping about was so rough-looking, considering in comparison you were on the smaller and softer side. But Drake was never one to judge anyone for their tastes, even if he subconsciously found himself a bit more wary than usual. No doubt the girls would both be reporting to Vivi that the rumors of Bartolomeo’s intimidating visage were true, and if they didn’t he certainly would.

It was at that moment, however, when you were left alone, that someone on the other end of the bar sidled up to the empty barstool on your right, a beer glass in hand. Greasy black hair, a thin, wiry mustache that made him look like a catfish, wearing a fedora and cheap dress pants. Drake caught the action in his periphery, watching carefully as the man tried to push for your attention. It was eventually given, and based on the way you cringed away from him, it was definitely not a comfortable exchange.

“Robin,” Drake said, his voice low as he nodded toward your seat. “We need to help her.”

Robin’s eyes narrowed, and with a sigh she stood. “How underhanded. He came up to her while Rooster was distracted.” She gave Drake an almost mischievous smile, putting a finger up to her lips. “I need to run to the ladies room anyway. I’ll go get her so we don’t cause a scene.”

He nodded, trying not to stare at the sway of Robin’s hips as she gracefully moved to the bar to collect you. You looked beyond relieved for the excuse to get away, throwing a quick wave over to Bartolomeo (who was still somewhat occupied with the new customers) as you slid off your barstool, the creep left alone to stew.

And then Drake’s stomach dropped, his nerves on high alert. You left your drink unattended.

Something that Bartolomeo didn’t miss, either. He was watching from his peripherals as well, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end when the creep had approached and started to harass you. He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to pay attention to the drink orders while keeping an eye on the unsavory intruder. He had relaxed slightly when the dark haired woman came to collect you and you both went off to the restrooms, only to be put on edge again when he saw an all-too-familiar movement.

Something was slipped into your drink.

Oh. Hell no. Bartolomeo finished writing down the new drink orders and moved to the tap, giving the unaware sleazebag a death stare that would have made the grim reaper look away. Thankfully, he was distracted by another patron, and his seat was on the way to the tap.

Drake saw the slip as well, and stood to confront the miscreant. He only made it about two steps however, before he saw Bartolomeo pass, and slyly swap the glasses. 

The two men made eye contact, with the sharp-toothed bartender giving Drake a knowing smirk before moving on.

The creep was none the wiser, turning back to “his” drink and taking a long pull.

As you returned to the bar with Robin, you stared at your glass, and your stomach churned. With a curled lip, you pushed it away, looking at Robin over your shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Robin leaned over the counter and flagged down the other bartender. “Can we get the tab?”

After the bar had closed, a very, very inebriated man in a fedora and cheap dress pants was stumbling down the back alley. “Stupid stuck-up bitch and her stupid stuck-up friend,” he slurred, one of the few coherent things he had managed to say all night. “Stupid fuckin’. Bartenders and their. Fuckin’ rules.”

He tripped over his own feet and landed on the concrete with a pained shout, nearly biting his tongue. He just wanted to have fun tonight. He hadn’t had fun in a long time. He couldn’t even get a prostitute these days. Probably because all the ones in town knew him by name and knew he always stiffed them on the payment. 

With a groan he rolled onto his back, trying to blink away the spots in his eyes. Why were the buildings all warped? Why did he feel like he was going to vomit up his whole stomach? What the hell was that shape looming over him with orange eyes?

“Man,” the shape above him said in a gravelly voice that sounded both too close and a thousand miles away, “you look fuckin’ pathetic.”

The creep writhed on the ground, further proving Bartolomeo’s point, and slurred back, “Nnno, yer prophetic...”

Bartolomeo cocked his head, sneering. All he could think of was how this pig, this scum of the earth, was allowed to keep living for so long. How many other bars had he hit up trying to pull what he nearly did to you? What would have happened if you’d encountered him elsewhere? Your friends looked out for you, sure, but what if you’d been alone?

Bartolomeo would have swapped the drinks even if it hadn’t had been you that was targeted. No one tries to drug someone in his bar and gets away with it. What he couldn’t do was convince himself that if it happened to anyone else, he’d be going as far as he currently was to make sure it never happened again. The creep tried to sit up, and Bartolomeo put one foot on his chest, tilting his head the other way. After another beat he lifted his foot, then slammed it down on one hand with a sickening crack. 

This guy picked the wrong place, and he really picked the wrong time.

The creep let out an agonized yell, eyes wide and suddenly alert as he scrabbled at Bartolomeo’s boot. Bartolomeo crouched down, putting more weight on his foot and brandishing a switchblade, pointing it right between the man’s eyes.

“Now that I got your attention,” he drawled, “I’ll speak nice and slow for ya, so maybe it’ll stick in that roofied brain of yours.” He lazily held the blade between his thumb and middle finger, swaying it back and forth. “I ever catch you around here again, you’re gonna lose this hand.”

He put pressure on it for emphasis, drawing forth another pained yell amidst a symphony of crunching bones.

“I ever hear about you trying to dope up anyone else, I’ll take the other one.”

The creep was practically foaming at the mouth, unable to form coherent words between the blinding pain and the drugs in his system. Bartolomeo let the knife slide down, the tip landing right on the bridge of the man’s nose and making him go stock-still.

“If you ever. Ever. Mess with that girl again? With what’s mine?” He bared his fangs in a snarl, “The only drinks you’ll ever get are gonna be through an IV. Get me?”

The man nodded, whimpering feebly.

“Perfect. But, just to make sure you don’t forget...”

Bartolomeo lifted his foot, then slammed the switchblade into the man’s palm. The scream that echoed in the alley made it all the more worth it. He yanked the knife out and wiped the blood off on the man’s shirt before standing, casually nudging him to the side with his boots as he began the walk home. He found himself humming a random tune along the way, satisfaction welling in his chest.

After all, he promised to take care of anyone who dared to mess with you.

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

Odesta Week Day 7: Let's Get Silly Sunday

“This is never going to work.”

Finnick shakes his head, unbothered. “You don’t have enough faith in me.”

“I have plenty of faith in you,” says Annie from where she’s leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “I also have plenty of faith in Mags’ seaweed bread recipe. The entire point is that nobody knows it, and she’s the only one who can make it the way she does. Nobody can replicate it.”

“Nobody’s tried hard enough,” he counters. He peers into his mixing bowl at the amalgamation of ingredients. He’s no chef, but it looks right so far. “Annie, I’ve been coming over to her house since I was eight years old. Trust me. I know the recipe.”

Annie sighs. “I’ll help if you want. It’ll be a nice break from my horrendously busy schedule.”

He stifles a laugh. It must be a good day for her if she’s making jokes like that, and between the two of them, good days are hard to find. It’s been getting steadily easier for Annie since she returned from her Victory Tour a few months ago, and they’re both trying to ignore the rising heat that indicates summer and Games season. 

“Mags is going to have the best birthday ever,” he asserts, stirring the contents of the bowl around. 

Annie glances at the oven then back at the bowl. “Mags might not have another birthday if we screw this up too badly, you know.”

He nudges her with his shoulder. “Don’t put that thought in my head. Will you whisk this while I add the flour?”

She gives him an uncomprehending look. 

“You don’t know how to cook?” Finnick asks, both surprised and amused. 

“You do?” she echoes, equally shocked. “I just spent the last ten years in the Academy having my meals prepared for me. Shockingly, they don’t teach us how to make bread from scratch before we go into the arena.”

Okay, today is a really good day if she’s making arena jokes. “I spent the last five years living with Mags. She told me cooking would keep my hands busy, but between you and me, I think she just got tired of me asking for the same soup over and over again.”

“Someone getting tired of you?” Annie asks, smiling. “Impossible.”

Something warm blooms in his chest, and Finnick focuses his attention back on the mixing bowl. He doesn’t need to think about the way Annie’s eyes gleam when she makes a joke. He definitely doesn’t need to think about the way their hands brush as she whisks the ingredients. 

“Is that enough?” she asks after a few minutes. 

“Should be,” says Finnick, checking to make sure the ingredients are combined. “Now we knead it.”

This has always been Finnick’s favorite part. He hasn’t made the seaweed bread before, but he has helped Mags with other types of bread, and he’s always liked the way the dough felt under his hands. Mags had been right about cooking keeping his hands busy. Sometimes, it’s even enough to clear out the noise in his head. 

“Are you sure we couldn’t have asked one of the other victors for help?” Annie asks dubiously as they work. “Considering they’re actual adults who know how to cook.”

“We’re actual adults,” he says, even though they’re the two youngest and nobody in Victor’s Village ever lets them forget it. “And that ruins the whole point of a surprise. Anything we tell the others will just get back to Mags eventually.”

Annie hums in acknowledgement. “You know, Mags asked me the other day if there was something wrong with my boat.”

The dough is pliant under his hands. “Is there?”

“I don’t know,” she says. They split the dough into halves because Finnick wasn’t about to let her miss out on the full experience, and they’re standing close enough together that their shoulders brush occasionally. “I’m always on yours.”

“The others need to mind their own business,” he says fruitlessly. “I’m not surprised though. News travels fast around here.”

He realizes belatedly that he and Annie don’t have any news to share. They’re not together, just to be clear. They’re friends. Friends who like to take Finnick’s boat out because it feels liberating to not be perceived. 

“Coral congratulated me during game night,” she continues. He doesn’t know if the air of nonchalance in her voice is genuine or if she’s trying as hard as he is to be normal about this. 

“I didn’t hear that.”

“Yeah, she and I went into the kitchen to get more drinks,” Annie says. “I guess she’s seen us coming and going to each other’s houses. Because apparently that’s not something friends do.”

He laughs. “You know, we have a golden opportunity here.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Yeah?”

“We’re making this bread as a joint effort,” Finnick says as he continues to knead the dough. “And when we bring it to Mags’ party, everyone will know we made it together. Let’s just drop as many hints as we can and see how long it takes for someone to say something outright. It’ll be like a game.”

Annie laughs. “The bread is a good start. We should arrive together, too, then.”

“Hm, good idea. Do you think matching outfits are overkill?”

“Have you heard of subtlety?” she asks incredulously, and he grins. 

Finnick shrugs. He’d only said it to make her laugh, and he’s glad that it did. “You’re right. Let’s save that for if we get desperate.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to,” she responds. Annie’s half of the dough sits ignored on the counter, abandoned in favor of the conversation. “Considering half the Village thinks we’re together and the other half never leaves their houses to see us in the first place.”

Their fingers brush, sending a jolt of electricity through Finnick’s body. “True. I really don’t know how they got that idea.”

“It’s weird,” Annie agrees softly. She tugs her hand away and returns her attention to her own half of the dough. “Finnick?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we’ve kneaded this dough enough?”

In all honesty, Finnick has no idea how long they’ve been kneading the dough for. He’d lost all concept of time somewhere between hearing Annie’s laugh and talking about their boats. “Yeah.”

“I’m no expert,” she begins as they combine the dough back together, “but I think if we don’t get it in the oven soon, Mags isn’t going to have any bread at her party.”

“That would be a tragedy on so many levels,” he says sagely, and together they ease it into the oven.

“This was fun,” Annie says as they settle onto the couch while the bread bakes. “We should try cookies next time.”

“We could bring them to game night together and watch Coral freak out,” he suggests. “You know, since we’ve obviously abandoned subtlety.”

She laughs and reaches for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “This is subtle, right?”

“Totally a thing that friends do,” he agrees, not even bothering to hide his smile. 

[mermaidandthedrunks]

winter hymnal (ava/beatrice)

Title: winter hymnal (3/3)

Fandom: Warrior Nun

Summary: Beatrice has been very good with keeping her distance and maintaining boundaries and it’s fine. Honestly, it’s fine. Until Ava books a weekend getaway. In the middle of the woods. During a blizzard.

[s-creations]

50. Putting a hand over the others mouth to shut them up with Luigi and Waluigi. You can either make it sad or funny. Completely up to you

(Link to Post)

50. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

"Hey Peasl-"

The Bean-ish prince winced as he heard something crash behind him. Turning quickly to find Luigi and Waluigi in a tangled mess on the ground. The younger of the two clearly desperate to keep his hands placed over Waluigi's mouth. The taller practically gleeful as he easily pulled Luigi's hands back.

"Um...yes? Can I..." Peasley's eyes followed as the two rolled end over end. Hands clasped together in a fight for control. "Can I help you with something?"

"SoIhadareallyquickquestion-" Waluigi snorted as one gloved hand was placed over his mouth once more. Clearly enjoying himself.

"Shush! Shut it!" Luigi desperately but forcefully hissed at the other. Giving Peasley a sheepish and fearful smile. "D-Don't mind him! Waluigi's just being an idiot again- Ah!"

Waluigi was able to get the upper hand this time and rolled so Luigi was now pinned to the ground. "I was just wondering what you admire about your green dressed boyfriend. Something about this squishy face must enamor you."

Peasley blinked slowly...but smiled softly hearing Luigi let out a small groan. Kneeling down to face Waluigi properly with a calm expression over his face. "Would you perhaps be looking for information to tease and taunt Luigi with?"

"Just doing my part to steel his nerves and what naught." Waluigi replied easily, still keeping Luigi's squirming at bay.

"Oh, well, in that case."

The tallest of the three dropped his smirk immediately when a rapier tip was threatening pointed at his neck. Peasley's demeanor changing to one not to be messed with. Waluigi scrambled back as Peasley pushed his weapon closer. The prince standing easily to keep the other at bay while Luigi quickly stood up.

"It would be in your best interest to keep your curiosity to yourself. Understood?" Peasley asked, his voice cold.

"Yep. Got it." Waluigi said quickly.

"Good." Placing his rapier away, Peasley's demeanor did another quick change as he addressed Luigi. The human's cheeks flushed. "Would you like to join me for lunch, my exquisite rose? I was heading there just now."

"Um...s-sure." Luigi smiled softly as Peasley took his hand and lead the way away from Waluigi. Who was still lying on the ground.

Said person only moved when the other two were far enough away. Letting out a small laugh as he sat up.

"Well...not a bad one you picked out, Greenie."

[nikkiruncks]

Adding onto the fact that Jeia and Niknate work because they balance each other out:

Nate and Nikki have different views and that was the one thing that just made it hard for me to see them as endgame for the longest time (that and it seemed like the writers were acting as if Nate was Nikki’s only option, but that’s for another rant). But with the release of part 3 and some thinking, I realized that them having those different views can be a good thing.

Nikki can teach Nate that in order to have a future or even a forever, they have to work for it. There needs to be a semblance of realism and thought, it’s not something that they can just hope for.

While Nate is someone who Nikki is able to embrace her real self and she can be herself with him. She doesn’t have to think about the expectations her parents put on her. And he supports her and believes in her when her parents don’t. He provides her that stability and comfort that will help her in the long run. Nikki wouldn’t ever have to worry about that going away, since Nate isn’t going anywhere.

(I just realized they sound like Formciotti here ughhh. But I’ll just say this is what the writers were trying to do with Jelso, but the writers didn’t do it as well.)

Jeia also balances each other out. Leia is the first girl Jay was ever serious about and he’s willing to do anything for her, while we see an even more selfless side of Leia with Jay. We see her grow and get out of her comfort zone with him (just like how Eric did with Donna), and do things she hasn’t done in the past because she was sheltered.

Not to mention this is both Jay and Leia’s first loving and healthy relationship. They may not be each other’s first crush or anything like that, but they are each other’s first loves and first real relationship.

Jay and Leia love and respect one another, and aren’t afraid to call each other out on their shit, and both characters grow.

From this:

To this:

-XO Poorni

[godlizzza]

if you’re still taking prompts, maybe teen danbert at summer camp?? :o

Herbert sighed as he slipped his feet into the cool water of the lake. He leaned back against the soft birch behind him, the warm breeze blowing off the water rustling the branches above him. He stared out at the pier where a group of campers were laughing and jumping into the lake, swimming between posts and splashing each other. Herbert observed their grinning faces, hair plastered to their wet skin, and delighted squeals as they attempted to wrestle each other into the water. He watched on and shrank back further against the tree.

His parents had seemed to treat science camp as a last-ditch effort to get him to make friends before he started high school in the fall. Herbert, however, was treating the experience as a mission: get in, get out without being noticed. So far, he'd been successful. Everyone else seemed to have grouped up already, braiding friendship bracelets and sharing ghost stories around the campfire, leaving Herbert blessedly alone.

Just six more weeks, Herbert thought, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the soft bark.

"Hey there!"

Herbert startled violently at the voice suddenly in his ear. He scuttled backwards like a crab, nearly pitching over into the water, until his shoulder hit a root snaking out of the ground, and he fell back on his butt in the dirt.

"Woah, sorry!" said the same voice and Herbert found himself blinking up into a pair of warm brown eyes. His assailant was a boy of about his own age with floppy brown hair and an uncertain smile. He held a hand out to Herbert. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Herbert squinted at the offered hand and sat up on his own, ignoring it. As he dusted the dirt off his shoulders, he tried to quell his racing heartbeat, but this boy wouldn't stop looking at him.

"If you didn't mean to scare me then why did you sneak up on me?" Herbert snapped.

The boy blinked down at him before drawing his hand back. "I wasn't trying to sneak up on you, you just didn't hear me. You looked like you were falling asleep."

"I wasn't," Herbert hissed, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

This was what Herbert had been worried about. People talking to him. Expecting him to talk back. Making conversation.

Except Herbert was terrible at making conversation. He could never seem to muster up the effort to pretend to care about whatever the other person was saying. Forcing a polite smile and nodding along weren't skills he had in his wheelhouse.

"Well, anyway," the boy went on. "You're, uh, Gilbert, right? I'm Dan."

"It's Herbert," Herbert corrected and Dan flashed him an apologetic smile.

"Right. Sorry. Well, uh, you left your notebook in the mess hall last night," Dan said, fishing the spiral notebook Herbert had been searching for all day.

Herbert gasped at the sight of it and swiped it out of Dan's hands. He cradled it close to his chest, the knot of anxiety that had been sitting beneath his ribs loosening until he could breathe easy.

"I thought you might want it back," Dan explained, scratching the back of his neck and glancing off to the side.

Herbert peered up at him, frowning at the spots of colour dotting Dan's cheeks. "How'd you know it was mine?"

Dan looked back at him and coughed into his fist. "You were sitting at, like, the table next to mine and all I could hear all through dinner was this scritch, scritch. Every time I looked over at you, you were writing something."

Herbert didn't reply. He'd been writing theories about how alien life could exist without sunlight, something dumb he'd never admit to anyone else, and here was some stranger who'd had his notes for almost a full day.

"I read some of it," Dan said, causing Herbert's brain to skid to a halt. But when he looked at Dan the other boy was grinning at him. "I don't think I understood all of it, but it sounded really cool!" He dropped to sit beside Herbert, shucking his own shoes and dipping his feet in the water. "You really think it's possible that aliens exist?"

Herbert was slow to reply. "Well...yes. Theoretically, almost anything is possible. It's possible that if you jump out of a tree, the particles of your body and the particles of the ground will line up in just the right way that you'll fall straight through the earth. It's unlikely, but possible."

"Woah," Dan breathed. "That'd be wicked."

"I'd be worried about where I'd get stuck," Herbert, who had spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating this, said.

Dan nodded and they sat in silence for a moment before Dan was sidling up to him, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "You know, there are stories that a UFO crashed here."

This caught Herbert's attention. He sat up straighter, leaning into Dan's space. He suddenly forgot all about how much he hated talking to people, interested instead with the way this guy was vibrating at talk of aliens and UFOs.

"Really?" Herbert asked.

"Yeah!" Dan exclaimed. "My uncle was a camp counsellor here when he was in college. He said people would talk about this weird crater in the woods and how if you went near it, you'd start sleepwalking in the night. Like the aliens could get in your head or something." He sounded out of breath with how delighted he was. "So cool, right?"

"So cool," Herbert agreed, and before his brain could catch up with his mouth he said, "Maybe we could try and find it."

Dan's face lit up like Herbert had just promised him they'd go to the moon itself.

"Yes!" he nearly shouted and when Herbert flinched he cleared his throat and said again, in a more level tone, "Um, yeah. That'd be cool."

Herbert ducked his head, trying to hide the grin threatening to takeover his face. He thumbed the pages of his notebook and echoed, "Cool."

The two of them remained there, sat at the edge of the lake, talking about aliens while the others played in the water.

[ossifer]

#51 for the writing prompts for amberpricefield!

Max sighs as she looks at the time on her phone. 1:52 AM. She thinks about the scrawled words in Chloe's room. Which doesn't help things at all.

There's a heaviness to the thoughts on her mind that makes doing something about what's bothering her, or even acknowledging the root of it, a herculean task. It's like picking at a scab on her heart. If she keeps prying it'll come off and blood will flow as the tears on her face do now.

Her heart is the problem. She misses them. It's only the second week, and she can barely sleep because she's always worrying.

Worrying about them. That they'll forget her, that they won't and the knowledge that she's stuck in Arcadia Bay until she graduates will drag them down. Worrying that she's not enough and that the only reason they're dating in the first place is because they didn't want to lose one of their friends, because of course she just had to start crushing on the two unavailable people in her life, so they put up with her third-wheeling their whole relationship.

Because for someone with nothing to say, she's always taken up too much space. She's not like them. She can't just walk into a room and light it up like Rachel does, nor can she match the sheer intensity and energy of Chloe, all she has to her name is a camera and a penchant for inspiring enough pity in people that they decide to tolerate her.

She opens the group text they have, and looks at the unsent message she's wrote there. "I don't wanna be alone right now."

They're out there, in California, eking out a life. Making the vision they've had for years come true. Because that's who they are. They're who Max isn't.

She spent years telling herself she'd text, she'd call, she'd switch off her phone and take a bus and commute to Arcadia Bay and not give a shit what her parents thought because she'd be back with Chloe then, and that would mean things would be okay. But she never did any of that.

Except, that was then. When every choice had to be run by her parents, when the only real joy she felt was when she looked at her collection of faded polaroids. This is now.

Now is after she met the girl who settled in the space she left, who never felt like she could quite fill those shoes, who knew her as a hole rather than a person, and they realised none of that meant they had to hate each other. Now is after she reconnected with Chloe, after they looked at all the missed time and made peace with it, and built something new using the time they had now.

Now is loving two people that love her back, two people who are waiting for the day she graduates and can be part of their dream. Because they want her there. All the messages she sees before her eyes are proof of that. A tapestry of their feelings.

She sends the message.

And not even a minute later, her phone starts ringing.

[characteroulette]

Only the Night Remains (Void Luke AU)

When the sun fell out of the sky, the stars were soon to follow, leaving only the eternal moon.

so. Who wants some sad RGB Puzzlers dealing with the grief/mourning process of losing each other to old age? :'D ?

[victorluvsalice]

Merry Christmas Mary!

@deathmaiidens As we previously discussed, here’s your girl Lily with her three parents in an all-alive 80s AU, going to see the best movie from the 80s. :D Hope you like!

--

“Come on, come on!”

“We’re coming, we’re coming!” Victoria said, laughing as she attempted to keep up with her daughter. “You’ve got to give us a chance to catch up, Lily!”

“You’ve got to walk faster!” Lily replied, though she did slacken her pace slightly. “I don’t want to miss the movie!”

“We’ve got over a half-hour before it starts,” Victor assured her, checking his watch. “We’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?” Lily insisted, curls bouncing anxiously with her steps. “Because the papers were all saying that it’s the most popular movie of the summer and all the seats are selling out and–”

“And that’s exactly why I’m making sure we arrive early,” Victor told her, catching up to her with his long strides to ruffle her hair. “We’re not going to miss it, I promise.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Emily agreed, shaking her head as she helped Victoria keep up the rear. “We’re all as eager to see it as you are!”

“Mmm – I’m not usually one for science fiction, but everyone says it’s wonderful,” Victoria nodded. “And it’s an interesting idea, isn’t it? I don’t know what I would do if I went back in time and met my own parents.” She frowned. “At least with them I know I couldn’t get in the way of any grand romance.”

“Me either – though I’d consider it the height of horror if my mother somehow ended up being attracted to me,” Victor said, pulling a face. “But I think I’d be safe so long as I could convince her that Father really was going to be rich one day.”

“Mmm. . .I don’t know how me meeting my parents would go,” Emily admitted, playing with her bracelet. “Things are already weird between me and Father, given the whole Barkis mess. . .and then you add in our, um, unconventional relationship. . .I think I’d keep remembering that the whole time I was back there and really put him off. Which I guess is a good thing for the timeline. . .”

“Maybe.” Victor shook his head. “I think what I’m getting here is that, if any of us are offered the chance to travel through time, we should turn it down.”

“Not me!” Lily said, looking up at them with a grin. “I’d love to meet you all when you were my age! We could host the biggest and best tea party!”

Victoria chuckled. “Now that I wouldn’t mind. I think we all lacked for playmates as children, didn’t we?”

“I certainly did,” Victor confirmed. “I would have loved for someone to invite me to a big tea party. So long as Scraps was allowed to come too.”

“I would have been all for that,” Emily agreed, finally catching up with Lily and patting her head. “So I guess you’re the only one allowed to travel in time then.”

“Okay,” Lily grinned – then gasped as the movie theater came into sight. “Oh! There it is!” she cried, pointing at the marquee. “BACK TO THE FUTURE!”

“Not quite so loud, dear – but oh, that is a long line,” Victoria noted, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sure you’ve left enough time for us to get in, Victor?”

“Uh. . .” Victor glanced up at the marquee. “Well, there is a two-thirty showing as well. . .”

--

[crookedtines]

I finally took the time to photograph my vintage dip pen nib collection, and I need to share with you all how wonderful and diverse their designs are.

These two are my favorite. Just look at them! One of them is named Gorille and the other Mephisto, but to me they're little pumpkins.

And of course you gotta love the Pinocchio nib. You get to write with the nose of a tiny guy! Just not something you get to do anymore.

[anna-scribbles]

old doodles from the archives 🫶

[artist-rat]

fine dining at the blushing mermaid. with the boogieboys

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

Summary:

Annie Cresta is a wealthy Capitol citizen who has lived her whole life unaware of the depravity of her own city.

Somehow, she manages to creep up on Finnick anyway.

[magnusbae]

To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

[roseworth]

i wish you guys lived inside my head the fics in here go crazy